


dream of a requiem

by orphan_account



Series: in absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt [6]
Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c., Real Person Fiction
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Infidelity, Intrigue, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:51:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But that's what you get when you dance with the devil, isn't it? You go to hell.





	dream of a requiem

About a month ago, Reince would’ve been pretty fucking certain that he’d be back in Wisconsin any day now with no political future and just a weird, weird name that people would pronounce incorrectly for the rest of his life. And now, a month later, he’s getting his picture taken for _Time’s_ 100 List.

Things are really looking up – that is, if he just focuses on the present and not at all about the past or anything looming in the near future.

The photographer finishes taking the pictures and Reince moves his chair back beside his desk. He clears his throat. “So, uh, think you can tell me who wrote my article?”

“I’m not exactly supposed to say,” Voss says, but he looks around the room before adding in a whisper, “Rahm.”

“Rahm Emmanuel?” Reince bites back a laugh. Shit, if a guy like that thinks he’s doing a good job then, fuck, he must be doing _something_ right. “Wow…” He sees Voss’ gaze go through the door and stop at Steve’s office, door closed but lights on, and he asks, “Hey, maybe if you ask him again, he’ll take a picture.”

“We can find some decent picture of him,” Voss assures him, almost dismissively. He starts to pack up his camera, but Reince is still staring.

He clears his throat again. “Do you know who wrote his piece?”

“Michael Duffy.” At Reince’s look, Voss clarifies, “He’s a managing editor.”

“Oh,” Reince says, slowly. It takes a moment for it to hit – the fact that no one, no one who _Time_ reached out to, wanted to write anything praising Steve.

“Yeah,” Voss says with a grimace. “I mean, we had to find someone off the list to do it, but, well…” He trails off awkwardly. “Anyway, have a nice afternoon, sir.”

“You too.” Reince absently waves him off. He just stands there for a moment, still looking out the door. He wonders if, if he weren’t on the list himself, would he write something nice for Steve?

Well, Mike would probably make him, just to make sure people believed that they were all still friends and whatnot, but would he actually mean it? Or would it be a lot like those days back when they were at each other’s throats and wanted to essentially kill each other?

His phone buzzes. It’s a text from Dina, but he doesn’t check it just then. He puts his phone into his pocket and heads over to knock on Steve’s door.

There’s a grunted acknowledgement and Reince pushes open the door. Steve’s just at his desk, glasses on as he scrolls through something on his computer, and he doesn’t look away until Reince is sitting down before him.

There’s just silence between them for a couple of moments, while they just stare at each other, and then Reince asks, “Does it really bother you that much?”

“Go to hell, Reince,” Steve says, but there’s no venom behind it. “I don’t need your fucking pity.” He goes back to looking at his computer – emphasis on looking, because his eyes don’t move and he’s just staring at the monitor.

Reince reaches out and puts a hand over his.

Steve doesn’t pull away, and they stay like that for a couple of minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“I’m a fucking journalist, a reporter – not a pawn to be used in some weird-ass game of chess.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“Look, you don’t need to be directly involved in this. We can all do our work like normal. All I want to know is that if – _if_ – I decide to do something, everyone else would be behind me.”

“With our names also on the byline?”

“Is that really what you’re concerned about?”

“No, no it’s not… We’d be behind you, of course we would.”

“Good. Because I don’t think I could do this alone.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Saw you on _Meet the Press_ earlier today,” Steve says as he steps inside. “Not sure who the bigger cuck was – you or Chuck Todd.”

Reince groans and covers his face with his hands. “Fuck,” he sighs. “I thought Mike was going to strangle me when I came back.”

“Why does he keep sending you out there when he knows you’re shit at it?” Steve asks. He takes a seat and leans back. He takes up so much space – not just his body, but his entire presence, sucking the air out of the room with each breath and all attention is on him.

“I ask him to send me on when we don’t have anyone else,” Reince says. “The President watches all these shows and when he sees me on them, then, well, it kind of reminds him that I’m still working at the White House.”

Steve chuckles a little, corner of his lips curving. “You really think he’d forget?” At Reince’s look, he laughs harder, and it’s hard for Reince not to smile a little along with him.

“It’s working,” he insists. He turns to his computer and pulls up that AP interview. “Look, right here. He says it – ‘I think Reince has been doing an excellent job’ – see, he’s starting to warm up to me.”

“Sure,” Steve says. He stretches out a little further and crosses his arms. “So, does this mean you’re gonna do more interviews, then?”

“I think so,” Reince nods. “I mean, while we’re all supposed to be saying the first 100 days don’t matter, we all know they do and it’s important that I keep the press on-message and show them that I’m here to stay.”

Steve shakes his head. “I hate speaking to the press on the record,” he says. “You never know how they’ll twist your words.”

Reince rolls his eyes. “You’re way too melodramatic, Steve – did you forget that you used to run _Breitbart_?”

“Yeah, _used to_ ,” Steve says. “Not anymore. Though, for whatever reason, no one seems to believe me whenever I say that. Fucking cunts.”

“That’s because you’re a notorious liar.”

Steve scoffs. “Point out one instance where I lied.”

“ _Only_ one?”

They exchange a look, then laugh together for a brief moment. Steve shakes his head, smiling lightly as he gets to his feet. “Want to get some dinner later?” he asks. “Once all the others have left – fucking assholes who don’t work while the rest of us slave away...”

Reince shakes his head, but there’s a certain fondness to it. “Yeah, sounds good.” He watches as Steve turns to leave before clearing his throat. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no TV in your office – how did you watch me on _Meet the Press_?”

At that, Steve’s smile turns into a smirk. “Come on, Reince, you’ve got _three_ fucking TVs in here,” he gestures to them. “You really think I wouldn’t requisition one for my own purposes?”

“You could’ve at least asked me beforehand,” Reince counters.

“Would you have said no?”

He pauses. “No.”

“Then why bother asking?”

“It’s the principle of the matter, Steve,” Reince sighs.

Steve rolls his eyes. “How’s this for principled, huh?” He walks back inside and back to the desk, reaching over and pulling Reince over by his collar. He whispers in his ear, voice soft and deep. “How about I fuck you right in the fucking Rose Garden and I send the video to Chuck fucking Todd, huh?”

“You’re insane,” Reince says, but his voice does go a little breathless.

“You fucking love it.” His lips barely brush over the side of his neck, and then he lets go and heads out again. “Wear something loose – I don’t want to deal with buttons.”

Reince can’t help but smile as he goes back to work. There’s not much of a reason for it – he just does.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“You really think they’re back together?”

“I _know_ they’re back together.”

“Fuck… we can’t let this continue.”

“I know. We’re on thin ice, ever since Gary stole my phone. It’s a miracle I was able to delete it off of Costa’s phone before he could show anyone else.”

“I don’t even know _why_ you took that picture.”

“You weren’t complaining about it when I did.”

“Yeah, well, that was – it was – well…”

“You can just say you’re an exhibitionist, darling. I’m pretty sure everyone already knows that. Well, everyone except your husband, that is.”

“Ha ha, very funny… Let’s focus on what we do next. We have to get attention off of us and onto them?”

“I think I have an idea. Might play out on its own, or we can somehow push it further – not that I’d want to, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“We bring in the wife.”

“The wife? Are you serious? He has kids, a family – we shouldn’t bring them into this.”

“I know, but it might be our only option. You know I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought there was something else we could do.”

“I know... it feels wrong, though.”

“I know. He’s not a bad guy – he and his family don’t deserve this – but, well, when you start messing around with the wrong crowd…”

“You have to face the consequences.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“‘It’s the 9th Circuit going bananas.’” Kellyanne enters without preamble, looking up from her phone to give Reince a look. “Seriously?”

“I said some other stuff in that interview too,” Reince points out, but he knows it’s a moot point.

Kellyanne purses her lips together. “You know that people focus only on the negatives and not the positives, right?”

Reince sighs and covers his face. “Doing that gaggle was a mistake. I’m terrible in front of the press and I should’ve remembered that _before_ I invited them into my office.”

“Well, if you need any advice…”

“You mean alternative suggestions?”

“Oh, hush,” she swats at him playfully. “I was going to say, you should talk to Powell or Cohn – both of them managed to stay in relative obscurity and out of trouble with the press – well, _yet_ , at any rate. It’s only a matter of time before, well…”

“They get doused in shit,” Reince finishes for her. “Yeah, I got it. I’m actually having a working lunch today with Jared and then I’m meeting with Powell for a bit, before the whole reception thing in the Roosevelt Room. We’re all actually starting to get along, I think.” He leans back in his chair. “Are you going to be there?”

“No, I’ve got some business elsewhere,” she says, almost ominously. She looks out the door and frowns. “Hey, I think you should check on Bannon – it sounds like he’s choking in there.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Reince says. “I’ll see you around, Kellyanne.”

“You too,” she says. He waits for her to walk down the hallway and back to her office before he heads across and opens the door.

As it turns out, Steve isn’t choking – on the contrary, he’s _laughing_. His face is pinker than usual and he has his phone in his hands, shaking his head with a grin as he looks at it. He looks up when Reince enters and the grin widens. “Reince, you literally made my day.”

Reince sighs. “It’s not that funny.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve says. “This is golden.” He shakes his head. “Fuck, this is why I told you to stay away from the press. Your words are getting twisted and dragged through the mud every which way.”

“It’s not my fault we’re trying to do fifty things before the 100 days,” Reince snaps. He sits down and shakes his head. “I mean, fuck, we’ve got the tax reform, we’ve got the healthcare, we’ve got the shutdown, we’ve got the border wall – and we’ve got no consistent message.”

“And that’s why we should keep our mouths shut and let those fucking cunts run around in circles, chasing their own tails and feeding each other their own shit.”

Reince makes a fake. “Fuck, Steve, I still have to eat lunch.”

Steve waves his hand dismissively. He gets up from his desk and walks around until he’s standing in front of Reince. “You should loosen up, Reince. Things are looking our way right now – Ryan is the one whipping votes so if healthcare fails, it’s on his head. Mnuchin and Globalist Gary are the ones in charge of tax reform and if that tanks, then those Goldman Sachs fucks can go back to Wall Street hell where they belong –”

“Once again, you’re criticizing something that you used to be part of.”

“– and for the first time in a long time, you have something that vaguely resembles job security.” He leans forward, close enough that Reince can almost see himself in his eyes. “Why don’t we fuck to celebrate?”

“I’m not exactly in the fucking mood,” Reince starts to say, but Steve is already kissing him, pulling him up to his feet and reaching down to squeeze his ass. Reince laughs, he really does, and he feels Steve’s rumbling chuckle as he’s pressed against the wall and his pants are pulled down.

It’s kind of a fumbled effort between the two of them – normally they’re so mad at each other and so turned on that the sex seems to happen by itself – but this time it’s different. Steve keeps kissing him, a hand still cupping his face and it’s almost gentle, in a way. He takes his time to open him up, fingers reaching in deep and massaging his prostate until Reince is all but leaking.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, gripping Steve’s shoulder. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve whispers in his ear. He pulls his fingers out and starts to shove his dick in. “You want me to fuck you right? You want me to let you get fucked?”

“Yes, yes, _please_ ,” Reince pants. He bites down on his lip and his fingers dig into Steve’s skin. They’re kissing again and Reince moans into him. Steve almost stops fucking him, very briefly, just so he can focus on kissing back.

“God, fuck you,” Steve growls, kissing the nape of his neck. His tongue licks down the side and his teeth graze his artery. “You don’t know what you do to me. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Reince breathes. His head hits the wall when he comes and Steve rams into him until he comes after. They stand there like that, panting, breathing, and Reince can taste the metallic tang of blood. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Steve’s eyes are a little wide and his face is a little flushed and when he kisses Reince again, there’s something behind it that he can’t quite place. It doesn’t stop him from kissing back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“Hey, did someone go into my office while I was out?”

“Not that I saw, but I just got back from lunch. Why?”

“Because there’s a file open here that no one should have access to.”

“Let me see…”

“I just said no one should have access to this file – why would I let you see it?”

“Because I’m your deputy?”

“… Fine.”

“Okay… did you change your passwords?”

“… Oh, fuck.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do now. Or, well, you can call her and ask who the leaker was… Oh, don’t give me that look – it was just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, well, it was a bad one. Anyway, help me change all my passwords. We can’t let these leakers get access to any more information about these reporters.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You told the kids about Thursday, right?” Reince asks. He’s at the sink, washing the dishes, while Sally puts away the leftovers.

She snaps another Tupperware bin closed and nods. “Yeah, of course. They’re really excited.” She chuckles softly. “It’ll be nice for them to see what their dad is doing all day.”

“And I can finally spend some quality time with them,” he hums, then pauses. “That is, if there’s not another fifty fucking crises rearing their heads.” He sighs and sets down the sponge, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his dry hand.

“It’s going to be fine, Reince,” Sally says, voice soft and assuring. She walks over to him and kisses his cheek. “Come on, now, there are _some_ days when there’s not fifty different things you need to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, “but back then, I had Katie there with me to help out and now...” He thinks about it for a moment. “Well, I kind of have Steve on my side.”

Sally narrows her eyes and crosses her arms, leaning back against the sink. “Steve Bannon?”

“Yeah, Steve Bannon,” Reince says, and he makes an effort not to smile too much. “He’s been a good help so far – and I know that sounds surprising, but I think we’re turning over a new leaf. I mean, I actually made him laugh the other day, did I tell you that?”

“You did.” She looks at him for a moment, eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure he’s on your side, Reince? You do remember how fucking insane he was when all this started, right? And all that shit he keeps saying and people keep saying about him…”

“Yeah, but it’s like he says – the media isn’t all that great.” He takes another plate and chuckles a little. “Well, he says it more colorfully but I don’t want to use those words.”

Sally doesn’t say anything. She sighs softly and goes to the fridge to get a glass of water. “Well, then, there’s something you should know…”

“What’s that?”

“He called me a couple of days ago to tell me…” her voice stops for a moment and she swallows hard to continue. “To tell me you’ve been cheating on me.”

Reince drops the plate and it clatters at the bottom of the sink. He whips around to turn to her, bubbles and suds flying from his hands, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times to find his words. “What – what the _fuck_? I – Sally, I would _never_ –”

“I know,” Sally says. She takes a slow sip of her water and a deep breath of air. “I know.” She walks over to him and puts a hand on his cheek. “Just… be careful, okay? I don’t think you can trust him.”

“Okay,” he says. His throat starts to close and his voice comes out in a whisper. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” she promises. She kisses him softly, just his lips, then pulls away. “Now, go wash your hands. It’s getting late and you have a long day ahead of you.”

“Yeah,” Reince nods. He turns back to the sink, but instead of washing, he just stands there. He just stands there and thinks about the fact that he’s become a liar and a cheater and a monster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“Hey, it’s me. I, uh, guess you’re probably sleeping right now – understandable, since it’s late. Oh, fuck, it’s _really_ late. I should be sleeping too.

“Anyway, I, uh, just think we should talk sometime soon, before the shutdown and the vote on healthcare. Not for anything work-related but, well, as friends. It’s been a while since we’ve been together – the last time we were, well, you kind of threatened my job.

“And yeah, that conversation was work-related and yeah, I guess you were trying to make a point, but that man who said that to me was not the man I’ve worked with for years, who comes from the same state as me, whom I consider a friend.

“We used to be friends. What happened to that?

“… Anyway, call me back when you can. Have a good night.”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Steve comes into his office the next day, Reince considers taking his computer and throwing it at him. His face sets into a scowl and he stands. “Glad you got my message.”

“It was a post-it on my computer screen – kind of hard to miss,” Steve says. He chuckles a little, but quickly trails off and sets into a determined look. “What’s wrong?”

Reince takes a deep breath. “Why the fuck did you talk to my wife?”

“Seriously?” Steve shakes his head. “That was ages ago, I mean –”

“I don’t care how long ago it was. Why the fuck did you call my wife and tell her I was cheating on her?”

He licks his lips and sighs. “Look, I was really drunk that night and I wasn’t exactly in a right state of mind…”

“Stop giving me fucking excuses,” Reince says. His nails dig into his palms and his knuckles turn white. “Why the fuck did you do that? Why the _fuck_ did you do that?” His breath is shallow and his vision feels like it’s turning red. “I thought – I thought we had a fucking agreement. I thought you wouldn’t do something as fucking _insane_ as this. I thought –”

His phone starts to vibrate on his desk. For a second, he thinks it’s Paul trying to call him back, and his heart nearly falls out of his chest when he sees that it’s actually the President. He takes a deep, controlling breath and answers it. Steve’s eyes are on him and Reince purposely looks away. “Yes, sir?”

“Hey, come into my office,” Trump says. “Bring Steve with you.”

“Okay.” He shoves his phone into his pocket and takes another breath. “The President is calling us. Let’s go.”

Reince doesn’t wait for an answer, just marches over to the Oval Office and Steve follows right behind him. He raises a brow when he sees the door and there’s obviously a question on the tip of his tongue when they hear Trump’s voice call through. “Reince, Steve, get in here.”

They exchange a glance, and then, one by one, step inside –

To find a couple of reporters sitting there, phones and notepads in hand, with Trump at his desk grinning proudly. “See?” he says. “Look at them, getting along great. Where’s Jared?”

“Uh,” Reince says, mind going blank. He can’t stop staring at the reporters – from _Politico_ , he thinks, but he’s not sure. “He’s…”

“He’s right here,” Steve says, and seconds later, Jared steps through.

Trump goes on to talk about how the three of them are getting along so well, and Reince wonders how bad it would be for all of them if he were to burst into hysterical laughter then and there.

They’re dismissed seconds later, Jared the first to walk out to, well, do whatever it is he does, Reince still isn’t really sure what his job is – and Steve reaches out to touch Reince’s shoulder. “Hey, I…”

Reince pushes his hand away and he takes a step back. “Don’t touch me,” he says, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t fucking touch. Don’t come fucking near me. And stay the fuck away from my kids when they come tomorrow. Stay the fucking hell away from them – they don’t need to be around people like you.”

Steve blinks, slowly. “Reince, I… Look, let me explain –”

Reince shakes his head. “I can’t fucking deal with this right now, Steve. I just – I fucking can’t.” He turns around and starts walking away.

This was a terrible idea, he thinks. A terrible, terrible idea.

But that’s what you get when you dance with the Devil, isn’t it? You go to hell.

And he’ll see Steve there with him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Maggie Haberman?”

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. And, uh, who’s this?”

“Katie Walsh.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. And I think I have some information you might want to know.”)

**Author's Note:**

> Yup. Like I said, there's a plot.


End file.
